


Ready, Willing, Able

by meiwai



Series: OFF kinkmeme fills [1]
Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, OFF Spoilers, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Spoilers, confidence issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiwai/pseuds/meiwai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the OFF kinkmeme prompt, </p>
<p>"Batter always imagined his Player would be a strong, confident person. And yet, when he finally gets to meet them, they are really anything but. They are withdrawn, shy, and downright depressed at times. Constantly second guessing themselves and their self worth, the Player feels as if they are dragging Batter down and wish they hadn't been pulled into the game and at least when they thought it was just a game, they could at least relax a bit (video games being one of their only ways of release)</p>
<p>Maybe Batter trying to be comforting in his socially awkward way but kind of failing horribly and making the Player cry.</p>
<p>Bonus points if Batter gets mad at the Player for not being what they expected and disappointing him and the Player just apologizes for being useless and it just makes Batter angrier until the Player is crying.</p>
<p>Lots of sadness and angst and heartache and (thats all really the same thing) but maybe a somewhat happy ending?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready, Willing, Able

\--

A week ago. 

\--

When the player's name and gender were input into the Batter's consciousness, he'd phased into game existence with his head high and his bat held firmly. Ready. Willing. Able. 

When the player's projection first appeared in the Batter's range of view and the solemn, booming text articulated the words "The Batter has an important mission. Be sure that it's accomplished," he felt unease in the center of his chest. 

They weren't what he'd been hoping for. 

Regardless of their physical structure itself, the Player was not strong, did not seem brave or capable or even competent from what the Batter first perceived. Where the Batter's posture revealed only groundedness and resolve, the Player hunched in on themself as though wishing to disappear. The Batter approached the Player's avatar and the Player backed away, (from their screen, in reality; centimeters translating to several paces in the pixellated world) and when the meek "Hello" left the Player's lips, their voice broke pathetically. 

"It's nice to meet you," they whispered, edging closer, never raising their eyes from the ground at their feet. 

The Batter couldn't bring himself to say the same. 

\--

Three days ago. 

\--

The Player's right hand shook as they raised it, outstretched, fingertips pointing at the Batter and Alpha and Omega. The middle three fingers of their hand twitched minutely, navigating through attacks and targets while the other hand selected the tactics with nervous, punctuated downward motions. 

The wrong attacks. The weak ones. The wrong targets. The inefficiently-chosen ones. 

"You've used Wide-Angle to analyze this enemy already, Player," the Batter gritted out. 

"I-I'm sorry," they responded, "I... forgot the enemy's weakness, but I'll remember it this time, I promise. I'll write it down if I have to."

"Please do," the Batter said dryly. Omega’s normal attack, not even utilizing a competence, ended the purification and as the battle screen faded he added with malice, “I hope you are also aware that I have been poisoned for the last two strikes.”

“Aah- Oh! I’m, I’m sorry, I’ll open... the inventory... item, which one is it for poison, I’m sorry, I’m not so good at this, I-”

“Focus, Player,” the Batter growled.

“I’m sorry, um, it’s just that we got Omega recently and I’m not used to having another set of abilities to use yet- and, I- the enemies here are the first we’ve encountered that can cause poison... poisoning, I’m really sorry, I’m not very good-”

"And what are you good for, exactly?!" the Batter spat out, his exasperation reaching the turning point to anger and turning the word “at” to “for” in his mouth.

The Player's image, frozen in place directly in front of the Batter, flickered once in and out of existence. The Player bit their lip and the Batter bit his tongue. He'd lost control of his temper there, but it wasn't as though he would apologize or rescind the implied accusation. He was on a sacred mission and needed a player who wasn't useless! 

"I-I.."

And yet he regretted raising his voice.

"Yes?" The Batter muttered gruffly.

The Player shook, still rooted to the spot, the sound of tears threatening to burst forth stifled only barely. 

"I’m sorry, I-”

A pause for breath. Of course, it was the Player, as the Batter dared not breathe. 

“I usually play... rhythm games..."

\--

Today. 

\--

They hadn’t spoken for three days. 

There was no call for words. The Batter performed his role and the guilt from the verbal lashing he’d delivered faded but never quite disappeared, and the Player guided him through cramped pathways and number puzzles with silent gestures and the fidgeting of their fingers. 

And then the epiphany occurred. 

The Player turned down a corridor and the Batter cleared his throat and the Player didn’t quite hear and the Batter said ”Player!” and as they turned he raised a hand to point at the hallway ahead 

And the Player flinched. 

That was the epiphany. 

The Batter lowered his hand. The Player was putting distance between them. 

“...I was going to say we’ve gone down this hall before.”

“Oh- I’m... I’m sorry- I” The Player backed themself into a nearby wall and braced both their hands against it, shaking uncontrollably. 

“You thought I was going to yell at you.”

“No, I- I’m sorry, I-”

The Batter followed the Player to the wall and looked down at them slowly. He felt sick. 

“No... You thought I was going to hit you.” 

The Player flinched. 

The Batter leaned in, his expression pained. “...Why do you continue to play?”

“I’m sorry!” The Player said, their voice cracking. It was the most clear thing the Batter had heard them say. “I’ll stop! I... I know I’m no use to you. I’ll just leave, I’ll stop holding you back, I’ll find a friend who can play better than I-”

“That’s not what I meant,” he tried to say gently, now that he understood. It came out testily. He backed off a bit and quickly looked away from the Player. “I meant, why do you continue to play when you are so scared of me?”

His voice trailed off. There was a moment of silence. 

Then the Player began to cry. 

At a loss, the Batter recoiled and then hovered between closing or adding to the distance between them. “I-”

The Player choked out, “Batter- I’m not scared of you, I don’t want to be, I... I want to keep playing so that I can move the plot... your story...”

The Batter stood unmoving, his mouth open slightly. 

“I don’t want to be a quitter, I’m always a quitter- I just- I w-want... to see this through, I w-w-want to know if there’ll b-be a happy ending if I d-do everything right...”

The crying turned to sobs and the Player’s words became incoherent babbling. The Batter dropped his bat and placed both hands behind the Player’s back, leading them slightly from the wall before pulling them into an embrace. 

“Shh, shh, Player, it’s alright.”

“I- I-”

The Batter pressed the Player’s body to his, lowering them both to the floor. He smoothed tears away from their face as they appeared. 

“I can’t promise how this will end,” he said firmly, “But I will never hurt you.”

The Played hiccuped against his shoulder. 

“Do you understand?”

There was a nod, a wet “thank you.”

“No,” the Batter said, pressing his calloused palm against one of the Player’s cheeks. “I’ve done nothing worth your forgiveness, let alone your thanks.” 

The Player rested their forehead against his neck and whispered their forgiveness and their thanks anyway and the Batter held them and felt more pure than he had ever been in his life. 

He helped his Player to their feet gently, then went for his discarded bat. 

“A-are you ready, Batter?” 

He was ready. Willing. Able. 

\--

The day after tomorrow.

\--

“There... there was a moment when you looked at me- did you think I would choose the Judge’s ending?”

“...No.”

“You- You looked sad.”

The Batter sighed, whispered his Player’s name. 

“Batter?”

“I am only sad that I could not give you that happy ending.”

His Player smiled, their eyes watering. His hand was sweating on the switch. He closed his eyes. His Player’s smile. That was the image he wanted to leave with. 

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

“You gave me more happiness than you will ever know.”

He heard the rustle of clothing and light steps. His Player’s lips were soft against his. His fingers slipped from the switch and found their way to his Player’s waist. 

And when all was said and done and the switch was set to OFF, there were no more tears. 

\--


End file.
